I found myself in somebody else’s bed again. I’ve already mastered this routine, a few bottles here and there. Now I’ve lost my phone in this unfamiliar mess. Tip-toeing the hallways, finding pieces of my self-worth scattered on the floor. There are times, I’d wake up next to a stranger and other days I see a stranger laying on any surface I haven’t touched. It’s easy to dance; it’s easy to follow this routine. But I wonder when I’ll ever stop.

You never asked to be a part of this – in fact, you never asked. You had this goofy smile on your face hoping you were the exception. Hate to break it to you; you’re more of a rule than an exception. There are just some cracks you can’t slip into. You can try to fix it but there’s no one asking you to. Maybe after scrolling through a few more pictures of you, I’d allow you. Perhaps gas lit memories would change my mind. A cold afternoon on the coach, it’s just us without the world distracting us. Maybe this could be a new routine to follow. The thought of it is nice. Because that’s all it would ever be.

A few more swipes, a few more clicks, and maybe I’d empty out my trash bin. Permanently erase you even if it was just on my phone. Because you were not supposed to be part of my routine.

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